


Chronicles of Hogwarts

by Buio_Angelo



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Tad Overdramatic I Know, Attempt at Humor, My First Attempt At Writing Something Worthwhile, No Relationships With Students, Total disregard of timelines, bear with me guys, will add more tags later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-17 12:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16974369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buio_Angelo/pseuds/Buio_Angelo
Summary: Your majesties -- Welcome to Hogwarts!Changes in characters' personalities:Peter has a flair for dramatics, Susan isn't the prim and proper (if a little haughty) lady she seems like at first glance, Edmund gets an upgrade in deduction, and please don't tell Lucy that she's cuckoo (you might just disappear without a trace).Also, I'm on a sugar high.P.S. I don't think Albus Dumbledore really knows what he's doing.





	1. Chapter 0 — Prologue

    After having stayed in Narnia for the larger part of our lives, we — my brother Edmund, and my dear sisters Susan and Lucy, returned to England, our old home, every inch the stranger. It was more than strange to see my siblings, my wonderful, just, gentle and valiant siblings who ruled at my side, twentysome years younger and looking so, _so_ small in our commonplace garments, standing there, looking as confused as I. We rushed back to the Wardrobe (quite a curious word that I only so recently remembered) only to hit the thin wooden panel that is the back. Only then did it dawn on me, the terrible realization:

    “I don’t think we could go back to Narnia, anymore.”

    Lucy burst into tears then, and I immediately felt cruel for even thinking such a vile thought.

    But evidently I was not the only one who had this in mind, as I watched Edmund comforting Lucy with his jaw set, and Susan in a state of near-hyperventilation, with her eyes closed and chest heaving, swaying back and forth ever so slightly.

    As Lucy gradually calmed, we settled on the floor (the smooth mahogany floor of... whose house is it? Oh, yes... the Professor’s house, with bright light that shone through the windows casting a dim glow on it), and silently contemplated.

    Time passed resolutely on, and still none of us have made a sound. I cleared my throat.

    “Susan, milady. Please go and close the doors of the Wardrobe, it wouldn’t do to have them hanging open.”

    Susan stood, brushing dust bunnies off her dress, and approached the Wardrobe. She hesitated. Then, slowly, gently, she began to close it.

    The silence was crushing, and the small thud of wood hitting wood seemed to ring through the room, bringing a shiver down my spine.

    Lucy closed her eyes and turned away.

     _Finality_.

    Susan smoothed put her dress and sat down primly in her original place, back straight. Her eyes sparkled with a sheen of unshed tears.

    Gravely, Edmund spoke up. “We’re now back in England. While this is not good news, we must accept the fact that, —that, for the time being, we are quite unable to go back. Therefore I suggest we do as customary during our visits to other kingdoms — we pick up the customs and respect their culture. And in our case, behave as how we used to, when our souls were still young.”

    Lucy, composing herself, smiled slightly. “Your words ring true, royal brother. And — oh! Do you remember that, back in the old days, you used to call me ‘Lu’, and you and Peter and Susan were ‘Ed’, ‘Pete’, and ‘Su’!” By the end of the sentence, she was grinning widely, eyes dancing, and gesturing wildly.

   Susan chimed in. “And we also used to use words such as ‘golly’.” She paused and wrinkled her nose, smiling. “I can’t imagine doing that now.”

    “And there was also ‘by Jove’, if my memory serves me well.” I, too, laughed.

    “We used to have tea at four.”

    “Oh, yes. And...”

  With everyone smiling, nodding and laughing, the atmosphere had lightened considerably. We then steered back on topic.

* * *

* * *

    It was only by the time the visitors in the house had left that our meeting had came to an end. It was... quite eventful and nerve-wracking, and admittedly more of a group therapy session. But Edmund’s preposition had been agreed to, and mandatory rules for our hopefully brief stay we did make, consisting of the following: 

__

        1. Whilst we pick up our old customs, we shall by no means forget our status as noble Narnian kings and queens. — Susan ( “Just because we should act ‘normal’, doesn’t mean we shall throw all the Narnian mannerisms we’ve accumulated over the years into the wind.” )

__

        2. Let nothing breach the love and trust between us, lest our united front be torn asunder. — Peter

__

        3. We shall provide support, may it be physical or emotional, for each other. Let no one forget that our hearts belong to Aslan’s holy land, Narnia. — Lucy ( “Oh, how I’d hate to forget about being a Narnian, and grow old and state at a tea party, ‘I had a silly dream once, back when I was just a foolish child’ to other old ladies. Aslan forgive, I just cannot bear it!” )

__

    While all was not well, our hands shaking and our work sloppy, we nevertheless felt at least partially satisfied, to regain some semblance of old order in our lives.

* * *

_**End of Prologue**_  

 


	2. Chapter 1, in which Albus meet the Pevensie household

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've thought of writing them meeting face to face for a while, and as you can see, I totally disregarded the time-lines, such things are trivial compared to the grand scheme of writing the things I want to write.  
>  Anyway, sorry for slow and sporadic updates, but here I am! Enjoy!

  It was a lovely summer's day -- the sun beamed brightly at the neighborhood, birds chirped occasionally, and Albus Dumbledore walked a near skip down the pavement, lilac robes a-swaying, feeling very happy indeed.

  And thus passersby could see the queer old man walk past the row of houses, lost in thought, humming something to himself, before checking his watch, eyes widening, then making an abrupt turn and, in a much more hurried pace, make his way to the quite normal and peaceful front door of the Pevensie household. Despite the anomaly of this scene, reader, if you squint, you would, perhaps, sense a faint glimmer at the hem of the old man's robes, that, although wholly different form the aura emitting from the house, just seemed to fit.

  The door yielded a rather plain middle-aged woman, who looked quite surprised at his arrival (or maybe his attire, he could have sworn he saw her right eye twitch). Albus smiled reassuringly at her. 'Ah, Mrs. Pevensie, I presume? I am professor Dumbledore coming to offer your sons and daughters education in an exclusive school in Scotland. May I come in?'

  After a quick talk which is mostly one-sided, Albus was finally able to convince the suspicious and concerned woman that no,  he bore no ill will towards the children, and, after a wave of his wand that sent the kettle off to make tea by itself, yes, he is indeed a wizard. Mrs. Pevensie looked a bit faint after that piece of information, and Albus wondered if it's a good time to offer her a lemon drop, he finds them to have quite a calming effect.

  'I'll go get the children.' The woman said shakily, and headed towards the stairs. Albus waited until her slightly uneven footsteps faded away, then promptly allowed himself to look around. Fireplace. Ornaments. Several books on the mantelpiece that he supposed, belong to the father. A rifle on the wall that _definitely_ belongs to the father. A curious slim dagger that glinted a decidedly un-metal like glow when he tilted his head to the right just _so_. Nothing but for the number of seats at the table indicated the existence of children.

  Voices drifted down from the staircase, and footsteps rang nearer. There was something... strange about them, Albus decided, in the way the sounds do not indicate stomps, or shuffles typical for children in their teens, but steady and even and _strange_. Albus clucked his tongue to himself, the way Pomona always did, and chuckled. He was, perhaps, the poorest judge in regards as to whether something is normal or not.

 

* * *

 

  Albus stared at the teens. Pardon him but they were stare-able. Although very young, they radiated brilliance, and... something that he couldn't quite place. Standing before him, there were no shuffling of feet or wandering of eyes, and should he not be a seasoned manipulator, ahem, educator, he would not have sensed surprise on their faces at all. They looked as if they were used to surprises. They looked... strong, undaunted. Their eyes all sparkled a certain light and he was briefly reminded of those of a seasoned Auror's. And though that should be unsettling, standing before them, Albus could feel nothing but calm.

  Then Mrs. Pevensie broke the silence by inviting them to sit down. Followed by the exchanging of names (and on Albus' case, titles as well), there was a brief explanation of magic (Albus saw looks exchanged between them and he was certain that _something_ had happened), a handing-out of acceptance letters (Susan's hand inched towards the dagger, but Edmund set his hand above hers and Peter gave her a... warning? look, so she gingerly tore open the seal). Then there was a deciding of whether to go or not, where decision was, without a question, handed over to Susan and Edmund, almost as if they had done so a thousand times before and it was only natural.

  With the answer being yes, Albus was _elated_. These children would be quite something someday, no doubt, and if fed the right information and steered the right way, they would be wonderful assets in the war. Ahem, no, because they had magic and all wizards and witches should be offered equal education. Equal education, of course, he'd done the right thing. That's why he's so happy.

  Albus clapped his hands, feeling awkward, somehow. 'So, we'll be off to London to gather our supplies about... ' he checked his watch. Nine thirty, dammit he'll be late for that weekly meet in the pub. Oh well. 'About now. I'll give some time for last-minute preparations and we may go. There'll be no need to worry about monetary problems. Hogwarts provides financial aid for muggleborns, that is, wizards and witches born out of non-magical families, like you... and orphans, and the like. Um...I''ll be waiting outside.' Thus he tried to gracefully shuffle from the Pevensie household, and waited out on the lawn.

 

* * *

 

  Merlin bless magic. Albus Dumbledore thought as he watched the movements to the four children form an enchanted mirror. Merlin bless magic, indeed, for satisfying his curious tendencies. (To be fair, some people tend to change their minds easily, and most muggleborns need an object of... comfort, to tie them to reality. He is just making sure they don't lose their minds. Surely that's alright. Surely.) He watched as the youngest child palmed the dagger and slipped it into her boot in so fluid a movement that he believed something to be wrong with his eyes, while Susan, with the shining long hair, scooped up the books (maybe they didn't belong to the father after all) on the mantelpiece, caressed their spines briefly, pausing, before pulling one out and pocketing it to go. Nice, Albus decided, she would make a perfect Ravenclaw. As the children gathered to talk with a flurry of hand gestures (How he wished he could hear them!), heading towards the front door, Albus hastily shoved the mirror into his inner robe pocket and schooled a grandfatherly expression onto his face to go.

 


	3. Chapter 2, in which the Pevensies go to Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at humor. Comment so I'll know what you think of it!

  Albus fumed silently. Where did the Pevensies go? He could have sworn they were following him to the Leaky Cauldron after visiting Gringotts a moment ago! 'One firewhisky.' He nodded tightly to Tom, stomped to a corner of the pub, settled down and did his best impression of a Snape-glower.

 

* * *

 

  Meanwhile, Lucy skipped merrily down the side alley branching from Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley, she remembered. Knock. Turn. Knockturn. A wizened old witch scurried past carrying a pail of... eyeballs? And she was briefly reminded of the Narnian markets that she'd always loved. Pardon a girl's love for shopping, even if it only fuels her morbid curiosities. 

  Lucy waved at the witch. 'Excuse me miss, but whose eyeballs are these?'

  The witch looked up at her and cackled. 'What've we got here? A girl! A little 'un.' She broke off the sentence and muttered to herself: 'Dragonsweed and basil... broiled... virgin's blood for a thousand galleons a bottle... ', before raising her voice: 'Well, little girl, these are dwarf eyes. For your _enemies_.' She said the word liltingly, grinning. 'They're bad luck you see. _BAD_ luck. Vile. Vi-oh.'

  Lucy dodged the witch's move to grab her and waved goodbye cheerfully, continuing on her way.

 

* * *

 

  Susan was picking up her books in Flourish and Blotts. She grimaced in distaste as the blond man on the cover of the first book turned his head from the dragon he's waving a sword at and blew a kiss at her, winking. He looked disturbingly like her suitor No. 1736. Ignorant man.

  There's a ruckus outside.

  Susan paid for her books and went out to investigate.

  She was met by a mop of blond hair facing away from her, who seemed to be in the centre of the commotion. Dozens of cameras flashed his way. 'You, girl! Move!' a scowling man made an impatient gesture at her. The blond turned around.

  It was the man in the book.

  The man flashed his teeth at her in a what was supposed to be a charming smile. 'Why, a lovely young lady!' He turned to the crowd. 'To make an example of what I just said... and to express my generosity of course... ' Another wink. The crowd cheered.

  '... I present to you... A set of my limited edition! Including my newest book, _Magical Me_! SIGNED!' He gestured to an assistant who shoved a pile of books into Susan's arms.

  The crowd went wild.

  Susan wondered in quiet horror if suitor No. 1736 had a long lost twin.

 

* * *

 

  Edmund looked around at the thousands of identical little boxes in the dimly lit shop.

  The floor squeaked behind him. _Old, judging from the linger between the steps. Probably a man. Underweight. A threat? Probably._ Edmund whirled around.

  The old man blinked at the hand resting on his shoulder. The touch was light, the relaxed state of the hand was friendly enough, albeit a little too close to his neck for comfort.

  Taking his hand off the man's shoulders, Edmund smiled apologetically at him, contrite, an excuse rolling smoothly off his trained tongue. 'Sorry sir, I didn't see you.'

  The old man's face smoothed out and he smiled. 'It is not often that someone hear my movements. Quite aware of your surroundings, I see. Now, to business. What is your wand hand?'

..................

  Edmund exited the shop fingering his newly-acquired wand, bidding the smiling owner of the shop a good day.

 

* * *

 

  'Mmn'other fi-whisky', slurred Albus Dumbledore, flinging his hand in whatever direction.

  He was quite unaware of a pair of eyes boring into his head.

  Peter Pevensie sipped his drink (butterbeer, or so he was recommended), and regarded the drunken headmaster, amused.

 

* * *

 

  Lucy met a frowning Susan on her way back from Knockturn. Susan's bag was positively bulging.

  'Book signing.' Susan told her in a clipped voice. 'Down the alley. Got another set for free. Whoopee. _Signed_ set. I'm _overjoyed_.'

  Lucy beamed. 'I can put them to good use.' She patted her pocket as Susan dug around in the bag. The nice shopkeep had graciously shrank her books for her. For free. After a little round of _persuasion_ , of course.

  Tucking the books into the crook of her arm, Lucy looped the other one through Susan's in the way she knew Susan liked. 'Cheer up. Let's go robe-shopping.'

 


	4. Chapter 3, in which Helen Pevensie muses and Lucy meets the Slytherins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Pants heavily* Well, I'm here!   
>  Please make a comment on your thoughts about Lucy's personality.  
>  Also, Mrs. Pevensie is Helen Pevensie, which is a bit weird since that's my name, but oh well.   
>  Question of the day: Is is considered favoritism if I write more about one character in particular?

  _Her children seemed calm,_ Helen Pevensie mused as she bid the apples of her eye farewell from King's Cross Station. _Entirely too calm about their newly-acquired knowledge of the existence of magic._ Of course, there was much curiosity over the information their books contain, - over the course of three days the time they spent together was filled with the zealous turning of pages and quiet mutterings. Susan even went to the point as to memorize all the spells. - She was always the more studious one in the family.

  But none of the other magical items have been laid a finger on, even though Helen was so sure she saw Edmund staring at his stick - no, wand - wistfully. After so many days after the shopping trip, even Helen herself wanted to simply grab one of them and give it a wave, just to see what happens. But of course she didn't - there are certain lines that she, even as the children's mother, couldn't cross, after all.

  Peter kissed both sides of her face as goodbye and Helen thought he had changed. He had, somehow, understood that displays of affection was not a sign of un-manliness. Her children had all grown up to be little adults during their stay at the Professor's, and glad though she was, she couldn't shake the profound feeling of sadness. It was as if she was peering through a grimy looking-glass, and all the little figures on the other side seem so close, yet blurred and faraway.

  Lucy hugged her around the middle and turned to their siblings. Each hauling up their own trunks, they waded into the crowd. Helen craned her neck and stood on tiptoes, leaning against the nearest wall, and watched the four heads, two dark and two fair, moving further and further away.

  When they had finally blended into the crowd and could be seen no more, Helen leaned back against the wall and tilted her head skywards, blinking furiously.

  She'd never felt so alone.

 

* * *

 

  Lucy settled down in the first empty compartment she found and giggled, delighted. A red train! An honest to Aslan red train! Her hands and feet were jittery and she didn't know quite what to do with them, - so used was she to attending to the political and financial issues in her country. Lucy was amused. The irony of missing the very thing she'd wished to be rid of was not lost on her, even though she was subject to it.

Extracting a book from her trunk, she flipped it open with one hand and proceeded to attempt to read. 

 Operative word here being attempt.

  With a reverberating 'BANG', the sliding door thudded open, and a horde of teenagers - children, by appearance not much older than she, stormed in. Upon seeing her, they fell silent and stared, as if expecting some reaction that's bout to come. The air reeked of ill-concealed menace.

  Lucy was no stranger to ignoring such situations. Or pretending to, for that matter. She hummed happily and turned another page

  The children's stares became more forceful.

  Lucy continued to ignore them.

  Then, as if determining her as a non-threat, they settled down one by one and began to talk among themselves. Rude.

  As their voices rose and filled with more excitement, Lucy, being every inch the polished and regal (and nosy) queen that she is, listened in.

  Of course.

 

* * *

 

  Ten minutes into a conversation that had nothing to do with her, the Valiant had the gang of schoolchildren with green-crested robes all figured out.

  The blond seemed to be the one in authority, with his father as a high-ranked official. The pug-faced girl who's currently pouting in a corner fancies him, but keeps getting pushed away. _Ah, young infatuation._ The two large-framed boys who looked stupider than they are were supporting the blond, and another blond, a girl, dressed in clothes so stiff-looking they couldn't have been comfortable, was engaged in a heated argument with him.

  And the subject of their conversations...

  By Aslan, power-plays and so-called politics, at so young an age? And executed in perfect seriousness as well.

  Lucy snorted quietly into her hand.

  _Well then. Let's play just another round. For old time's sake._

  Extending a hand, she smiled brightly at the sulking witch beside her. "Hi. I'm Lucy Pevensie. Care to be friends?"

  The girl narrowed her eyes at Lucy. "Pevensie..." regarding her posture. "Can't say I've heard of it before. You must be _minor_." She leaned back against the cushioned seat. "Pansy, _Parkinson_. From the House _Parkinson_. And what, pray tell, would interest me as to _befriend_ , as you put it... a _minor_ house? Hm?"

_Bargaining as well? If you insist..._

  "Well," Lucy pondered, paying along. "I _am_ currently in possession of Gilderoy Lockhart's _Gadding With Gouls_. Signed, you understand. I don't suppose, for the exchange of your _friendship_ , you would be interested...?"

  The way Pansy's eyes lit up in surprised delight was answer enough.


End file.
